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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29056551">sing me to sleep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/florenceandthemachine/pseuds/florenceandthemachine'>florenceandthemachine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Declarations Of Love, Hospitals, M/M, Not Happy, Serious Injuries, Whump, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:35:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,916</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29056551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/florenceandthemachine/pseuds/florenceandthemachine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After four days, Eddie woke up.</p><p>Buck didn't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>252</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>9 1 1, 9-1-1 Tales</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sing me to sleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is the first time I've had to use that particular archive warning.... it's big sad hours y'all.</p><p>xoxo flo</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a simple call. An apartment building, doing everything it could to burn to the ground.</p><p>It was something that Eddie had dealt with a hundred times before. He didn’t even need to put any brainpower into following Buck through burning level after burning level as they worked to clear the building, let his body run on autopilot as he methodically cleared each room.</p><p>And then the floor started to give out. </p><p>And then he and Buck were falling. </p><p>There was smoke, and pain, and the pressure of Buck’s arms wrapped around him as they fell, the scent of smoke and sweat cloying his nostrils, the wind knocked out of his body as he landed, and then—</p><p>—and then Eddie was choking, trying not to vomit as he struggled against the weight around him, blinking away the stars in his eyes.</p><p>There were hands on him immediately, two holding his shoulders down, another grabbing at his jaw, and suddenly Eddie felt like he was gagging, entire body writhing in disgust and then he could <em>breathe</em> again.</p><p>And cough again, to the joy of the nurses around him. He gratefully accepted cup after cup of ice chips as he was caught up to speed on what had happened over the past few days—</p><p>—few days?!—</p><p>—and Eddie started to panic as he twisted his body around. His voice, still raw, was coming out in grunted demands, body finally going shock still as he finally caught sight of the body in the bed across the room, anxiety giving way to fear and shame as the reality of the moment sunk in.</p><p>After four days, Eddie woke up.</p><p>Buck didn’t.</p><p>--</p><p>The next few days saw a literal revolving door of guests; the entirety of the 118, to start, Maddie, Athena and her crew, Abuela, Pepa, people that Eddie didn’t even know. People from work. People from the public. People that Buck had saved, in fires, in the tsunami. </p><p>Eddie tried to speak, to thank them, to tell them Buck was going to be okay, he was going to be fine, but all he could manage were pained grunts for the first few days after intubation—and he only got a few grunts out before someone (usually Carla, bless her) very, very sharply reminded him that he needed to rest his throat. </p><p>All that was probably for the best. If he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t cry, and if he couldn’t cry, he couldn’t follow the rabbit hole that had opened up in his head, the never ending path of worst case scenarios that plagued his brain.</p><p>--</p><p>“I didn’t get to tell him.”</p><p>Eddie finally found his voice on day five, when it was just he and Hen, long after visiting hours were over. Eddie was… tired, bone deep weary in a way that hadn’t hit him until he looked over that morning and saw Buck’s body, still lying there, still unresponsive, as another nurse tried the umpteenth reflex test on his foot.</p><p>Nothing. It was… not comforting.</p><p>Hen, bless her soul, had all but claimed Eddie and Buck’s room for her own, hiding out with the two of them during every free moment of her internship. She managed to mask her surprise (her bedside manner had really improved), even if she nearly dropped the stack of charts she was working through (okay, they had improved, but… not that much).</p><p>“Didn’t, uh—didn’t tell him what, Eddie?”</p><p>Her lips were moving, but Eddie couldn’t tell you what she had said, his own mind racing a mile a minute. Buck was still lying there, like he had been all week, like nothing had changed—and it hadn’t, not really. Not for Buck, anyway.</p><p>For Eddie, though, the world had just turned topsy turvy. </p><p>“Hen, he has to wake up. He has to, I have to tell him, he—he needs to know, he—”</p><p>Eddie hadn’t realized he was hyperventilating until he literally couldn’t breathe, sucking in a deep, reedy breath as Hen rushed over to his bed, realization dawning on her face as she wrapped him in her arms.</p><p>She squeezed him, tight, tight enough to break through his panic, and Eddie managed to inflate his lungs as she pressed the heel of her hand into the nape of his neck.</p><p>“Eddie, I promise, he knows. He knows, and he loves you too.”</p><p>He knows, Hen had promised. And that was the only thing she had promised. </p><p>Eddie wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, or… if it was the fucking worst.</p><p>--</p><p>Eight days after he woke up, Eddie was discharged.</p><p>He doesn’t go home, not right away. But he is discharged. </p><p>Hen doesn’t even bother sending a nurse in to tell him when visitor hours are over—she brings out the big guns, having Carla and Chris come and collect him at the end of the day. </p><p>“Get some rest, Eddie. Go home and rest. Buck will still be here tomorrow.”</p><p>He sure would. And so would Eddie.</p><p>--</p><p>Three days after he was discharged, a sniffling Maddie was what greeted Eddie when he made his daily trip to Buck’s room. He immediately feared something terrible had happened as he looked from the grip she had on his hand to her red eyes; but the heart monitor, ventilator, everything, was still plugging away, the rhythmic beep and hiss almost soothing.</p><p>The moment he entered the room, Maddie looked up, tears flowing anew as she tried to form a coherent thought.</p><p>“Buck, he—Buck had a—he had a—”</p><p>Eddie felt his stomach sink. Buck had a what? A stroke? A heart attack? A seizure?</p><p>“Buck had a living will.”</p><p>Blinking in a stupor, Eddie flopped down into the seat beside her, confusion written all over his face. Of course he had a living will. Everyone in the department did. </p><p>Eddie had updated his own a month or so ago, leaving explicit directions that if he was ever killed at work, Chris went to Buck, the house went to Buck, and his car… also went to Buck. Shocker. His body would be cremated, and if he was ever incapacitated, he—</p><p>Oh. Oh, no. No, no no no.</p><p>He didn’t notice the packet of papers next to Maddie’s lap until she handed it over to him, thumbing through the pages as the words started to blend together.</p><p>“He didn’t want to live like this, Eddie. He’s not even living.”</p><p>Eddie had feared something terrible—but as per usual, the reality was so, so much worse.</p><p>He didn’t cry. </p><p>He did throw up, the moment he left Buck’s room, but no. He didn’t cry.</p><p>--</p><p>By the time Eddie finally got a moment alone with Buck, they already had destinations for seven of his organs, which… didn’t seem fair. Buck’s body was still alive (even if his brain wasn’t), he was still breathing (even if his lungs weren’t), he was warm to the touch... and they had already found recipients for his heart, his liver, each of his lungs, a kidney, and his eyes.</p><p>His fucking <em>eyes</em>. That, oddly, was what hurt the most.  </p><p>Seven people were going to live on with parts of Evan Buckley, and it was what he wanted, but someone else—someone who didn’t even know him—was going to look in his eyes and see that beautiful blend of green grey that Eddie had dreamt of since his first day at the station.</p><p>Seven people were going to get to have something that Eddie had only dreamed of. The most wonderful, caring, perfect man in the world, who had been dealt the worst hand in the universe had given his life for them in a roundabout way. </p><p>Eddie was bitter. Or, at least, he wanted to be—but Buck made that hard.</p><p>“So, um.” </p><p>He cleared his throat as he looked down at Buck’s body, reaching forward to take his hand. </p><p>“Bobby said I should say goodbye, and I gotta tell you, Buck, it fucking sucks. So I thought instead I’d tell you where you’re going.”</p><p>He wasn’t going to cry. He was not going to cry, damn it.</p><p>“Hen kind of got into the UNOS database and gave me the info, and… well, your heart is going to a woman in Toronto. She was in a car accident. a week ago. Your kidney is going to another firefighter, in Dallas. So, you know, you have barbecue and bad accents to look forward to.”</p><p>Heart, to Toronto. Kidney, to Dallas. Lungs, to Florida, and to Iowa. Liver, to Washington. </p><p>“Your eyes are going to stay here, though. They’re staying in California, which is good, I know how much you love—how much you loved it here.”</p><p>He was <em>not</em> going to cry.</p><p>“I love you, Buck, and I’m so sorry that you didn’t get to hear me say that. But I love you, and I’m going to miss you, and—and you’re going to do good things, even now. I just wanted you to know that.”</p><p>A part of Buck got to stay in California, but as the gaping hole in his chest only grew, Eddie felt like he might as well be anywhere else on the planet.</p><p>--</p><p>Even in death, Buck was still the hero. </p><p>Even in death, Buck got to save the lives of eight—they had found another person who could use his other kidney—eight people. </p><p>Buck got to save eight people, and Eddie got to dress in black.</p><p>Buck got to save people and Eddie got to hold Chris while he cried, wanting to know why Buck left him. He got to try and console his son while he felt his own heart, long since broken in two, ache in his own chest. </p><p>It wasn’t fair, but that didn’t even seem to scratch the surface of it anymore. </p><p>--</p><p>Three weeks later, Eddie had exhausted every day of bereavement, sick leave, and PTO he had. No small amount of that was spent just cuddling Chris; they both needed it, honestly, but once two weeks turned into three Eddie could hear Buck’s voice in the back of his head.</p><p>Buck wouldn’t want him to do this, Buck would want him to keep on, and Eddie hated admitting it—but that was no surprise, he hated admitting whenever Buck was right about him. </p><p>Now, though, he was at work, and he was frozen again, standing in front of the locker right beside his. </p><p>Seeing ‘Buckley’ printed on the back of his jacket was all it took to throw Eddie back.</p><p>There was no tape over the name, no one else's gear in the cubby, no missing boots or pants or anything, and if Eddie closed his eyes, he could almost believe that Buck was standing in the doorway, waiting on him to move his ass as the siren started up.</p><p>“Eddie?”</p><p>Chim’s voice was soft, and Eddie felt his head slam back down into reality as he turned, blinking a few times. </p><p>“Eddie, you good? You don’t have to jump into this, you know that, you can—”</p><p>“I’m good.”</p><p>A lie, and a blatant one at that, but a lie for the right reasons. He could almost feel Buck smiling as he grabbed his turnout gear, wiping at his cheeks—when had he started crying?—as he ran to the rig.</p><p>After all, he had work to do. He had lives to save.</p><p>Not for himself—not anymore, maybe never again—but that was his own business.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://florenceandthemachine.tumblr.com">come scream at me on tumblr.</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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